Unova Stars: Cascading Comets
by Charlie4060
Summary: To be read in conjunction with /u/2177577/ 's 'Bright Shadow!  After fourteen years Jet finally sets off for his Pokémon Adventure. Yet even from Day One he discovers that his past has been marred by the evils of Plasma ...
1. Chapter 1  Easter Eggs!

Date: 24th April.

Time: 16:00.

Location: Home.

The whisper of a breeze breathed throughout Nacrene; upon it sailed the faint messages of those long departed, carried forth in the cracked remnants of dead leafs which spiralled from building to building carelessly, but with a silent eagerness to remain unanswered and admired by those clever enough to see their nature. Their path was traced by the hazel eyes of a young teenager, who sat by a mahogany table upon the long decking by the delicate Coffee Shop of his hometown; an accordion player played his unusual music close by but out of sight; the familiar chirping of local Pidove was faint, but constantly present in the pearl of a town.

Jet gulped down another cup of blisteringly hot, tragically weak tea; in his fourteen years he'd developed an unhealthy addiction to the stuff, an addiction he thoroughly placed on his father. He taught history in the local museum to passing tourists, although in his day he was once an excellent lecturer on the nature of fossils and their importance to science in the modern day. The two spoons of sugar in that tea, however? That was his mother's influence through and through. She was a baker with one serious sweet tooth, curvy, but in a fantastic motherly way. But Jet sat there alone, simply taking in the town in all its afternoon glory. His mind was wrought with questions, troubles, dreams and, most dangerously, the hormones of every teenage lad out there.

'You and Skye must come to me at dusk, Jet. I have a new mission for you two to complete! Dusk, dusk! Dusk stone? No! The Time!' His grandfather's words played and played through his head incessantly, and with each repeat came the same sliver of excitement, panic, even the occasional adrenaline rush as he contemplated just what his Gramps's words could mean! It had been almost four whole years since his last 'mission' (which was to fetch the newspaper from the shop), yet back then even such a small job seemed so vivid, so alive with danger. Yet Jet and Skye (his cousin, his best friend) were young adults now, right? They had responsibilities, duties! They had lives to be lived, lives that were being wasted away in further education. Was it not time to finally, finally, begin their journeys as Pokémon trainers?

The beautiful azure of the day gave way to the transience of sunset, cool blue replaced by bold, blazing tangerine that night was sure to follow. Clouds speckled the setting sun, their dream dust bathed in gorgeous mulberry shades. Grandpa always argued that the day belonged to the light gods and the night to the dark gods, that the sky was simply their battlefield and that the world was simply a plateau, a little something cooked up from incomparable magic to keep the sky up there, forever circular, forever beautiful - forever a warzone for the higher powers.

Jet checked his Xtranceiver for the time; 18:59. With a tired sigh he rose from his wooden chair and grimaced; he'd whiled the hours away in that chair, which pretty much guaranteed that horrid pins'n'needles feeling to rack his ass for the next few minutes or so. Pretty annoying. He dusted himself off: Jet wore your standard stygian black jeans, an alabaster white t-shirt underneath an ultramarine blue jacket, and a garnet red and white baseball cap tucking away his shaggy brown hair. His feet were adorned by black trainers; he was a runner, and shoes like converse just weren't practical enough to keep up with him. He learned that the hard way, but a foot-full of blisters later Jet felt twice as clever for it. He set off for his cousin's house at a jog.

Nacrene was such a strange city: besides the Pokémon Centre, there weren't many 'normal' buildings; almost every single standard home was a renovated warehouse, as Nacrene was once nothing more than a storage facility for the once-mighty Train Station. Nothing but a few stray railroad tracks were left to commemorate the ancient system; the highway had long since made the trains entirely obsolete. Most houses were filled with artists, musicians, historians … the artsy type, really. Yes, Nacrene was quietly loud, and it definitely kept to the beat of its own drum. It was amongst the strangest to hold a Pokémon Gym.

Jet jogged along to the houses closer to Nacrene's entrance, which led out to Route 2 and all the wonders of cultivated wilderness. Each 'house' was about twenty feet tall, with huge encroaching alabaster walls and ultramarine roofs that melted off into the sky, each with a teeny tiny patch of grass that begged the dream of being a garden, stripped off by standard white picket fences. The brown-haired teenager didn't even bother to knock before entering No.9, closing the door tight behind him as he stepped into the living room.

"What-ho? Who yonder plunders mine cabin!" someone voiced suddenly, before a huge wooden stick smacked into the door; Jet just managed to duck in time. "Aye, you're a slippery devil!" cried the strange voice, before a moustached old man grabbed Jet by the collar. Jet wasn't scared, but admittedly a little caught off guard. Someone had given the old man sugar in his tea, hadn't they? Grampa was doolaly!

"Gramps? You gonna let go?" the young runner asked with eternal patience. Took the old coot a few seconds, but he let him go all the same. Jet rubbed his neck; he needed to remember just how strong the eighty-seven year old still was! Gramps ripped his walking stick from the wall and hobbled on back to his chair, grumbling to himself. Something about spacemen, the economy, and how fish back in his day were a lot bigger. He was hard to keep up with. "Where's Skye? Well, as if I have to ask," the fourteen year old answered himself; his cousin was hopeless with time keeping. He wished he could say she liked to be fashionably late, but … well, she was just late in general. Wreaked havoc with his schedule, she did.

Jet plonked down on the ground in front of his grandfather, looking at the old man with an expectant gaze. But Gramps gave away nothing; he'd suddenly become quite still, much less jittery than usual. Jet thought he was pretty mad, but Grandma Willis had always maintained that Grandpa Edgar was born that crazy. She'd loved him for it, too.

The front door slammed shut behind them after a few minutes, a bedraggled Skye entering her home. . Her chocolate brown hair hung with two bangs down the left and right side of her face, the rest flowing in a bushy pony tail. She wore a white vest top and a black overcoat that ended just above her hips, and sky blue shorts with white tufts at the edge. She also wore black boots with dark pink laces and soles, as well as, on her wrists, black and pink wristbands and her Xtransciever. She seemed flustered, too.

"Well, look at what the Purrloin dragged in," Jet said with a grin, tapping the floor by his side.

"Shut it, you. This is my house. I'll kick you out," she bit back with her ferocious grin; the cousins both smiled like a Cheshire cat, everyone said so!

"Thems fightin' words!" Gramps suddenly declared, waving his walking stick around like a lunatic. The kids blanked him.

"Yeah, thank God it's your house. Personally I wouldn't want to live in such a shabby place-" he caught himself nervously, glancing at Grandpa. Luckily the old man was distracted by his moustache.

"It's better than the dump you live in. Last time I checked you were living in a dustbin out the back of some rubbish restaurant," she replied, sitting beside her favourite cousin; she seemed kind for a moment, before she punched his shoulder – Jet bruised like soft fruit. Skye called him peaches because of it.

"Awwh, jealousy is a terrible thing, isn't it?" he replied a little dryly, before shoving Skye back. "So Gramps, you were just saying. Skye's real family were hillbillies?"

"Hillbillies my arse. More like rich millionaires who left me in the care of these people, else I'd explode of awesome!" she said, bursting out laughing.

"Come on, listen-"

"So you admit it, you're adopted! I knew you were different. Everyone always told me you were different."

"Right, that's it. Losing patience, Skye suddenly rammed into Jet's side, attempting to pick him up onto her shoulder. "God, you're bloody heavy," she grimaced, but somehow … yes, she was lifting him! While sitting down to boot!

" Must be all this muscle. It's heavier than fat y'know. Well, you would know all about fat with those legs ..." he replied, simply letting his companion have her way; she'd been the same since they were kids anyways. Although this time her hands pressed against his ribs quite painfully.

"Kids, kids, family shouldn't-"

"Ha! Hmm, you're right. Maybe I should take a look at that fat..." she said lethally before dropping Jet to the ground; he landed with a thud and could barely repress a swear from surprise. Grandpa had had enough; he jumped from his seat angrily.

"SO IT'S EASTER, HUH?" he exclaimed, completely sure that this would grab his grandchildren's' attentions. It didn't really.

Jet sat up straight again, fixing his hat nonchalantly. "Did I hear Easter? Couldn't hear too well, Skye's fat was blocking my ears."

"That doesn't even-" she began.

"So, Easter?" he asked with a grin, finally giving the old veteran the attention he so desired.

"Yup! And I got you both Easter Eggs. Oho, kids, take your pick," he said happily, sharing in the Cheshire cat smiles of his family. From under his seat he carefully retrieved two large eggs of identical size, but physically couldn't be more different. The first was a pale egg with a strange yellow film shielding the top half, which was as hard as rock. The second had a crimson top and an incredibly dark grey bottom … it seemed angry, which was pretty impossible.

"I want that one!" Skye almost screamed, lunging dramatically for the honeycomb-shaded Easter Egg. She grabbed it up excitedly, sat back down by Jet, who more calmly picked up the remaining egg. The colour surely didn't matter … right? Gramps was hiding something up his sleeve, Jet just knew it.

"Hey, I don't see any wrapping paper ..." he asked, feeling troubled; he flipped the egg over a few times, trying to find the crease he could pull back to reveal the fantastical chocolatey goodness within. "Hey, it's warm. I don't want lukewarm chocolate, that sounds really terrible! What is this I don't even …"

"Oh well, I'll still eat it!" Skye tapped her egg experimentally before opening her mouth wide, preparing to take a massive chomp out've her little gift.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING! GODDAMIT WOMAN, IT'S NOT REALLY AN EASTER EGG," the old man yelped, aghast at the apparent stupidity of his two grandchildren. "Kids these days, you've got no brains!"

"Oooohh..." the young girl answered, her brain slowly but surely tuning into the situation. She knew something Jet didn't, but what could it be?

"What are these if they aren't chocolate? Useless, that's what!" Jet argued grumpily, folding his arms. He was a real pain in the ass when it came to people coming between him and his glorious sweet tooth!

"I'll have it if you don't want it!" Skye called, itching towards the dark egg which lay abandoned by her cousin's feet. Grandpa was at his edge now, which said a lot.

"You two are idiots! Can you not tell a Pokémon egg when you see one? Fools!"

Jet was about to hurl his egg at Skye before his head snapped round, his eyes wide with shock. "Wait, Pokémon egg!"

"Yes! Working at a museum, you'd think a boy your age could recognise a Pokémon Egg." He trailed back off into his traditional incoherency, although Jet wasn't paying much attention anymore. He sat there, transfixed by the object that rested on his lap. His mind was pretty blown, it had to be said. In his hands he held … life. A little, tiny life that was his and his alone to care for, to raise … to love.

"Ah, come on Gramps, I was just pulling your leg. I knew all along it was a Pokémon Egg!" she bragged, pulling Jet back from the depths of his thoughts. He looked at her nervously; he gulped, looking back to his grandfather. Skye couldn't stop beaming. Jet just sat there, dumbfounded. He felt foolish.

"Oh yeah, me too, I definitely knew it was a Pokémon egg." It was the world's least convincing lie, and coming from Jet, that was a real doozy.

"Shut up, Jet, you liar," Skye said with a pout. She didn't fancy her cousin stealing her glory.

"No, y-"

"OI! BOTH OF YOU. QUIT IT," Gramps yelled in his usual raised voice. He did enjoy speaking with all the authority of a capslock. "Now, this ol' man used to be a great Pokémon trainer and even better with the ladies, I'll have you know. Now, I travelled this whole region with some very special Pokémon, and I know what your parents are like, so I'm giving you both a mission. Take those eggs and hatch them, then get out of here and get out there! I'll cover your backs better than I covered Jimmy O'Tooles in 'Nam-"

Jet suddenly cut in. "Jimmy ... the guy who got shot in the nose?" he frowned.

"Nam? Where the heck?"

"Quiet, you," the pensioner replied instantly. At this, with their 'missions' in mind and eggs in hand, Skye and Jet looked to one another and rose to their feet in unison.

"Right, we'll just leave now. Later Gramps!" she said eagerly, giving the old coot a one-armed hug; she clutched her unknowing partner-to-be in the other.

"See ya, Gramps! Bet you fifty bucks that mine hatches first!" The two teens escaped the building as fast as their legs could carry them as Gramps chuckled madly, babbling another stream of incoherent shite that no one could hear.

"I love Gramps. He's battier than a Woobat," Jet said with a grin, the two cousins standing on Skye's porch with their eggs wrapped surely in their arms. The night sky rained a thousand stars upon them; amber streetlights flickered in the darkness, illuminating Nacrene with a charming tangerine hue.

"Haha! Couldn't agree more, but you still top the crazy list. Oh, and by the way, there's no way your egg is hatching before mine, loser," she mocked, sticking her tongue out impetulantly.

"We both know I'll hatch my egg first. But let's make this interesting, will we?" he asked, his catty grin suddenly becoming much more … devilish.

"Interesting? You mean you're going to sit on it like a bird and hope it'll hatch quicker, because you know mine's gonna hatch first?"

"Interesting, not as in how you somehow fit into short shorts, but as in ... a bet."

Skye cast him a warning look. "Hey! Don't make me tackle you again! I will – you know I will. So... what kind of bet?"

"Alright, here it is. Let's see, although we all know it'll be me, who can hatch their egg first? The loser has to fork over all their money!" The words hung over them like a bright shadow: always obvious, but never truly noticed until now.

"Haha, yes! I'm running low, so taking all your money will be great! Let's go, runner-boy."

"I'll be running a clear mile ahead of you at any rate. Catch you later, thunder thighs!" He burned, his energy spilling around him like a fiery aura; without waiting for Skye's reply (he was sure there'd be one) he ran off into the night, nearly tripping as he did so. His cheeks became rosy with shame, though he blamed the cold.

Grandpa Edgar sat upon his armchair in the corner of Skye's sitting room, the lamp on the table by his side the only source of light in the room. He stared at his hands, enticed by them. A tiny golden light flickered into life upon his fingertips, illuminating the crevices of his old face. "Jet, remember back to when you were ten! The key to your memories has become undone, go forth and uncover what we had to lock you away from."


	2. Chapter 2  Nightmares In The Dreamyard

Date: April 24th.

Time: 21:34

Location: Route 3.

It was an ordeal getting home and keeping the Pokémon Egg safely under wraps; besides tripping every few seconds (Jet became a real klutz under pressure), he had his parents to get past. That was usually much easier said than done, but when Jet got home no one was around. Like in Skye's house the front door opened straight into the living room, this time filled with up-market cream leather sofas and armchairs and a huge white-marble fireplace dominating most of the right wall. Pictures of the family adorned the walls: their odd weekends in Castelia, hiking over Chargestone Cave, a snapshot of Dragonspiral Tower, even a few of just Jet and Skye arguing, smiling, hugging, and an infamous one of Skye all too literally kicking Jet's butt.

The family Herdier sprung to life when Jet called out for his parents; within seconds the youth was tackled to the ground, his face plastered in the canine's vile slobber. He laughed and shoved the dog off him, wiping himself clean while nuzzling the pup's side. It barked happily and wagged its tail, looking up at Jet with huge, hazel eyes. Its darker fur trailed along the ground as it suddenly made for the kitchen; it was in the habit of matting the very human-like hair when it got out into the garden, so Herdier was pretty much a house pet. God knows, Jet had tried battling with it before, but it never ended well for them. Maybe Jet just wasn't cut out to be a trainer … no, that wasn't true. Both he and Skye had attended the Pokémon Academy on Route 3, and they graduated joint-top of their class.

"They must be caught up at work. I'll leave them a note," he said mostly to himself, although Herdier was comforted by a little actual sound. He followed the pup through to the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. He rummaged through the cupboards and threw the dog a ginger biscuit; no one in the house actually liked them apart from the dog! Huh, spoiled rotten, it was. They loved it, though. Pokémon were difficult to resist. They always kept a stickypad next to the fridge (the door was absolutely covered in them), so Jet just wrote 'Camping with Skye tonight', stuck it under 'Attention!', scratched Herdier behind the ears, before running upstairs to his room. He grabbed his rucksack, wrapped his egg securely in a blanket, carefully placed it in the back, then left the house.

He checked the time; 21:47. It was getting late; the huge marble moon ruled the night sky, bathing Nacrene in gorgeous moonlight. But without fear he made for Route 3; he'd played there about a thousand times when growing up, and had to walk the route 10 times a week just to go to school. Jet knew the entire place inside and out; the same went for Pinwheel Forest, although he rarely encroached on Wellspring Cave … Skye told him that ghosts lived in there. Not cool, not even remotely!

He took his first steps out of his hometown, taking a deep breath. It was next to impossible to meet trouble on such a tranquil road, but knowing he had an unborn creature to safeguard added a little pressure to the situation. The rustle of wings burst overhead; without warning a huge flock of Woobat flew across the moon, heading for their home in Wellspring – they resembled pale-blue spikey balls with bat wings, with a teal heart trapped in a pink circle glued onto what could only be assumed was the Pokémon's face. They were ridiculous creatures.

Slumbering Pidove pigeons decorated the thousand trees around Route 3, their soft snorish cooes surrounding Jet as he walked along the riverside. The water was surprisingly gentle for such a deep river (he and Skye used to go diving during the summers), but infested with red and blue Basculin; the fish Pokémon were usually breeding at this time of year, or preparing to raise their little water-based families. Blitzle still cantered around in the dark grass, although most slumbered happily with the herd. The Patrat were as mobile as ever, though; Jet disliked how crimson their eyes were, glaring at him from the sidelines. They were exceedingly popular to train amongst rookie trainers, but Jet just didn't see the appeal. Lenora raised them too; her strongest Pokémon was a Watchog, the evolved form of Patrat. Any Pokémon could be powerful, though; it simply took the right trainer to exploit strengths and max defences.

No one was around, it was just Jet. On a good Summer's day the route was be ablaze with Pokémon battles and tourists, yet here on a Spring's night, when the moon and its beauty was entirely unrivalled, not another soul wandered. The sky was Nacrene's treasure; it was the clearest in all of Unova. Jet absentmindedly put on his earphones, setting his iPod to the glorious shuffle mode: it came up trumps with a little 'Regina Spektor – Samson' magic, which suited the surrounding beautifully.

It took about half an hour to reach the crossroads; left took you to Wellspring, and right took you on through to Striaton City; Jet did not have a clue why he was going there, although he knew every step he took somehow helped his Egg gain 'maturity', which apparently was what they needed to hatch. The journey felt natural, but it was a bizarre force that was drawing the young trainer-in-training to the city and even further beyond, an intelligence incomparable and entirely alien.

Warmth embered kindly from Jet's backpack; his Pokémon Egg wobbled every now and then, though the teen knew from his studies that that was to be expected; that didn't stop him from jumping every time it did, though. Jet liked to seem 'cool', the type that could fit in anywhere, the kind of guy that wasn't easily rattled. On his travels his mind kept wondering elsewhere, off into the realm of his own thoughts. What kind of Pokémon could the old man have given them? Jet knew from the design of his own that it certainly wasn't local; none of the local Pokémon were primarily red, besides the occasional Pansear deeper in Pinwheel, and that would leave the dark grey entirely unexplained! He had the same difficulty figuring out Skye's egg, not that he remembered much else but yellow. Pretty common.

Jet decided to rest for a few minutes, sitting on the steps in front of the Pokémon Play school and Daycare. Nostalgia washed over him as he glanced towards the tall green-roofed building, or out onto the sand-strewn playground where he'd battled his classmates so often during practical lessons. His favourite battler had been … well, that was strange. Jet blinked, trying to concentrate. His favourite Pokémon … the one he'd battled with the most … God, he just couldn't remember! How had this happened? Why couldn't he remember such a simple thing? Seconds passed as he contemplated his past … and then his mind was enriched by golden blossoms. Blue, the colour blue seeped through the cracks in his broken memory … water? The colour blue, and the Water-type. No? Was that it? Was that all he could gleam? "That's bizarre," he murmured, sighing. "Must be later than I thought."

A dull headache started in the back of Jet's mind; he put it down to sleepiness, but he couldn't sleep now for a million reasons! He had to hatch his egg, because no doubt Skye was doing the exact same thing he was; walking around pointlessly. He couldn't describe it, but he felt compelled to go to Striaton. Maybe it was the Gym, maybe it was the School, maybe it was the people, he just couldn't decide. It was a good way to while away the hours, though. The egg in his bag shook, spurring him on.

After another twenty minutes Jet passed through Striaton; again, even in the town, he didn't cross a single human soul (although he noticed a Purrloin gang watch him from their rooftops). The city had many high-rise flats, but they were a colourful chocolate shade accentuated with sun-yellow, and carried none of the negative connotations from most capital cities. Drug abuse was minimal in Unova … apparently. It was only a few weeks since he'd last been in Striaton (having to do a lot of basic courier work for the Pokémon Museum), and it hadn't changed in the least. The shaggy haired teenager glanced towards the Pokémon Centre, wondering how many days or even hours it would be until he started using them for real, as a certified Pokémon Trainer. A grin erupted over his pale features at the thought. He'd be huge, famous! He'd be the head of the Elite. Jet Flynn would go down in history.

He stood there for a few moments, but it was wrong; this wasn't where he should be. He kept walking and stopped outside of the Pokémon Gym, which was closed due to the ungodly hour. No, that wasn't the right place either …

Ring, ring! Ring, ring! RING, RING! Screamed his Xtransceiver; he nearly shat himself in surprise. He dialled accept and was met by silence. A few seconds passed. "Uhh, hello?" he asked, looking around self-consciously. A few more seconds before Jet was met by the most dreaded words in the entire world. "Hello, is this Mr Flynn? … We were wondering if you'd like to take part in a short survey-"

He cut off the voice there and then. My god did he hate telemarketers. Jet turned and started walking East, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes; he crashed into a huge hulking form, falling back to the ground; he cried out and tried to turn – he couldn't let his egg come to any harm! "Whoa!" A deep tone resounded throughout the town; two large hands grabbed Jet around the shoulders before he hit the concrete pathway. The stranger pulled the young runner back to his feet; Jet winced, rolling his shoulders; they felt bruised. He looked to whoever it was that helped him with the wild eyes of a cornered animal, readying himself for fight or flight.

His gaze met the form of a frankly huge man, at least forty years of age; the hair of his fringe was blistering red, yet the rest fanned out into a pinkish orange hue that all ended in a massive ponytail; he had the skin of one who preferred the outdoors, and the attire to match: he wore a long faded-white poncho veiling a burly, bulky physique, lined with tangerine and unlighted with more of the same crimson; his trousers reached his shins before stopping short in intentional tatters; he wore black sandals that strapped around his ankles; a fantastic six plain Pokéballs were slung around the man's neck, each another pendent on the biggest man-necklace Jet had ever laid eyes on; another impossible trio of Pokémon capsules lined the stranger's waist. His face showed concern for the teenagers; his black eyes betrayed a remarkable kindness within, yet displayed an unfathomable grief in tune; this man had clearly experienced a lot in his days.

"Kid, you alright? That was nearly quite the tumble," he said; his voice was hoarse, not naturally, but as if he'd had a cold for quite a while. Jet felt thoroughly stunned, although he now felt more awake than he had in hours. He nodded, words catching in his throat. His surprise lined his features; the stranger smiled in understanding.

"You look like you have somewhere important to go. I'll leave you to it, shall I? My name is Alder, by the way. I'm sure we'll meet again," the man said pleasantly, nudging Jet's shoulder as he walked past, heading for the Pokémon Centre. The physical contact ripped him back into reality.

"Sorry, sir! My name is Jet!" he called after Alder, waving in embarrassment. The multi-coloured male turned and, even through the night, Jet could see his smile. The smile that was his own.

The Dreamyard was a bizarre place. Even in the night it was entirely visible; from the centre of a dilapidated old building radiated an almost neon pink light, painting everything in a bizarrely familiar fuchsia. Jet knew in his mind he had never been in the place, yet his body was washed with nostalgia. His headache was escalating, that was all he knew for sure. Seeking reassurance Jet took a moment and withdrew his Pokémon Egg, holding it in his arms as he moved further into the unusual place. It was as warm as ever, even without a blanket to swathe it. He looked around, his eyes becoming blank; the deep brown began to discolour, his pupils spilling out into nothingness. Jet's eyes were empty, only the memory of normality imprinting the lines of irises in them. The deeper he walked, the higher a strange pink dust rose around him.

On an unnatural wind, the words of his grandfather were whispered. "Jet, remember back to when you were ten! The key to your memories has become undone, go forth and uncover what we had to lock you away from." Tiny golden globes of light were hidden amongst the mist; Jet looked at them, a smile painting his emotionless face – he thought they were fireflies. "Fireflies, so pretty, so innocent … Oshawott used to play target practice with them," he whispered, still smiling.

The whole world imploded on him; as reality turned inwards, the truth of his mind spilled forth. Jet whirled around; the local Munna dream mist turned from pink to black in an instant, Jet drowning in a sea of shadows, one filled with irreparable pain and misfortune.

He was ten, standing just outside of the same destroyed Dreamyard; he looked almost the same as he did now, only in far smaller proportions. And his face, his smile; he was so ridiculously happy. But he was fourteen, too. Jet was looking at his younger self, but his younger self wasn't looking back. The entire world was silent, although he saw his own lips move; what was he talking to? 'Oshawott!' screamed a tiny voice; it ripped through Jet, stabbing him in the heart. In his old self's arms sat the little otter Pokémon, waving its keratin shell ecstatically. The creature jumped from the child's arms and raced ahead, happily calling its own name; why was that the only sound in this strange ethereal world?

Jet junior raced alongside the little Water-type, clearly laughing in glee. Jet's heart ached, although he had no idea why; every time he laid eyes on the otter, another pang shredded his barriers. He knew it was a dream, yet it felt like a memory. A memory he hadn't lived, or couldn't remember living. Yet here it was, all the evidence of his life, almost physically within reach. Not wanting to lose himself, Jet followed after his young self. Jet junior and Oshawott had stopped sharply after the turn of a wall, looking forward with huge, distressed eyes. Strange men stood in the clearing; they looked like knights, yet also bore a bizarre resemblance to astronauts; upon their chests they bore the placard of a royal house, a P adorned by a streaking lightning bolt. Between the two men hovered a Munna, its plump pink body adorned by empty purple flower designs. It looked happy, looking towards the strangers with small indigo eyes. Without warning one of the men lashed out with a wild kick; the Jets made the same identical motion; a half step forward, a raised hand before their mouth, worry and anger brimming behind their eyes.

The strange soldiers took no notice of the ten year old or his Pokémon; Jet knew he couldn't be seen in this dream, although a strange one it was. The Munna tried to amble away, making its invisible steps along the empty air; the other soldier blocked its path, kicking it back into place. Jet cried out as the little Munna's body smacked off the dusty ground; his younger self was completely horrified. Very real tears sprung to Jet's empty eyes as he watched the two soldiers brutalise the tiny Psychic-Pokémon, but he was locked in place. His younger self shook with terror, but Oshawott instead blazed with pure fury. Jet bade it stop the violence, yet feared what the two men would do to it … Oshawott was his best friend, wasn't it? They'd always battled together in school, they were undefeated! The young trainer knew that now. The men moved in to batter Munna again.

Unable to take anymore, the little Oshawott burst forth with his keratin shell set alight by the powerful Razor Shell technique, running straight at the two human soldiers. Jet junior cried out and ran after Oshawott, trying to grab the little guy so they could get the hell out of there before they were next to fall victim to the bullies. The two soldiers turned just as Jet junior grabbed his Pokémon by the tail, clutching it close to his chest. The men bore down on the kid. Jet ran up to them and tried to yell, but found he had no voice in this realm. He knew something horrid was coming, something so much worse. He was trapped in a nightmare he'd already lived. Jet junior tried to run away, but the soldier with a bloody boot grabbed him by the nape of his t-shirt and kept him in place. Jet could not read lips, but he knew they were taunting him. Oshawott was struggling to stay in place; BB (bloody boot soldier) jabbed the Water-type in the chest, a superior grin dominating his features. Jet junior only just managed to cover his otter's mouth before a Jetstream was sure to erupt, targeting the stranger. Jet knew the child was right, too.

The other soldier grabbed the Munna from the ground by the scruff of its neck; it was covered in bruises and violent gashes. Its indigo eyes called for death; Munna didn't even have the energy to breathe properly. It was then Jet heard his second sound; the short, ragged, squeaking breaths of the dream mist Pokémon, who looked not to the junior but to the very real Jet, the only real thing in this memory of pain. It was nothing more than a momentary glimpse before the soldier dropped the Munna to the ground, squashing the last breath of life from the little Pokémon. Jet junior screamed as everything became silent once more; Jet had never seen such destroyed eyes, such an unhappy child; he'd never seen such cruelty as the two men chuckled, shook their heads and walked past the tormented child; he'd never such confusion as Oshawott edged towards the fallen Pokémon.

But he had seen it all once before, because this nightmare was no lie; this darkness was a true memory, and it was the source of all the unhappiness in Jet's life. He'd been such a happy child until that day, the day he felt the cold fingers of death molest his childish flesh. Jet junior fell to the ground, soaking the ground with his salt tear rivers, his whole body wracked with shivers. Jet stayed close to Oshawott, kneeling by Munna's corpse. The teenager reached out and was unsurprised to find he could physically touch the poor Pokémon's corpse; in this dream nothing more could surprise him. He pet Munna's side, his heart bleeding for the lost life. He looked around and found the faces of a hundred more Munna looking back, each mirroring devastation in their fading indigo eyes. In the centre of the crowd hovered the fantastically powerful Musharna, whose mane made of dreams hung around her fat face pink face; her eyes were dark, almost red, but Jet knew she was a mother mourning the loss of her child. She came forth, her body suspended, and nuzzled her dead daughter's flank. A soft croon came from her maw, the impossible tears of grief patterning her cheeks as they did Jet and Jet junior's.

The world began to expand once more, the black dust in which Jet had lost himself returning to the gorgeous pink, his eyes returning to their full hazel shades. He watched his ten year old self fade as his whacky grandfather and his parents found him passed out, their tracker-dog Lillipup dancing around their feet. Oshawott was still transfixed by the passed Munna, so it didn't see when its master suddenly vanished, saved by his family but abandoning his dearest companion at the same time. And while the ethereal memory faded into fact, two things remained very real. The tears that stained Jet's face remained there, and the Musharna from the past still hovered in front of him, staring at the place her daughter had been murdered.

"Mush, Musharna," she wailed. Her cry called the field of dream mist to life; like a cherry blossom shedding all its beautiful leafs at once, an almighty tornado of fuchsia poured out onto the stygian night plateau, with it carrying all of her lost love to the other side of life. Rivulets of the stuff was whisked off in the altitude's wind, destined to travel the world with a mother's lament. It was tragic, yet it gave them both closure. The burden of Jet's heart was erased, and the burden upon Musharna was lessened. But he had to ask, what was it that pulled the stopper on these select memories, who had bound them in the farthest recesses of his mind, and what had drawn him to the dream yard? Was it Musharna, or was it Jet himself?

"Pawniard," chimed a tiny voice, coming from Jet's side; the cracked remnants of a red and grey shell lay just a little way off. A tiny spaceman stood beside the pair, with knives for hands and a helmet for a head. Jet stared at the Pokémon with bloodshot eyes, registering that his egg had hatched while he lost himself on dreams and nightmares. A Pawniard? That was an unusual choice; Jet had to admit, he'd never have guessed his Grandpa would give him such a powerful creature. With big, amazingly friendly honeycomb yellow eyes, Pawniard looked from Jet to Musharna. Jet coughed and smiled happily, feeling embarrassed. "Hey, Pawniard. I'm Jet … I'm your trainer."

Time: 04:41

**(A/N) Oh god, I dunno about you guys but I got totally misty eyed there! I'm a real wuss though. Just taking a little time to thank Lalex for all her lovely in put and keeping up with my strenuous demands. Oh, and if you're reading this ... thanks! 333 **

**Just a reminder, if you want to follow Skye (from Chapter 1)'s story, follow this link! It runs in conjunction with this story, you don't need to read it, but it'll give you a lot more delightful context. :D **

**.net/s/6932359/1/Unova_Stars_Bright_Shadow  
><strong>


End file.
